


Furling's Gift: Heavy Medal

by gooligan



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-07
Updated: 2004-09-07
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10334141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooligan/pseuds/gooligan
Summary: SPOILERS: Anything where Daniel saves a planet or two.SUMMARY: More of the Furling’s Gift, AKA Little Sh . . . oops. That’s why it’s PG.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 Fanfiction - Furling's Gift: Heavy Medal

Daniel is peeling the layers from his biscuit, rolling each one up into a tube, then smushing it with his fist, when Sam and Janet join us for lunch. They both glance at him, but he's being quiet and fairly non-destructive. With eight little flat, round bits of bread, he takes each one and uses his fingers to form it into a perfect cube before eating it. 

Janet gives me a look, but hell if I'm going to tell him not to. He's having a blast and not getting into trouble. "Grapevine says we're getting a visit." She throws out casually as she stirs her mashed potatoes. 

Daniel blinks innocently at Janet and puts a biscuit-cube on his fork tine. "I hadn't heard." He lies. 

Sam gives him a look. "Uh-huh. I hear you're getting a medal." 

Daniel continues blinking. "It's from when I was tall" He replies. "It's no big." 

Janet pauses, mouth pursed, looks at me. "I understand General Williams is coming." 

Daniel shrugs, puts another biscuit-cube on his fork tine. Pops both in his mouth. "I'm done." He tells me. We stare at one another. Daniel has actively avoided the talk about this medal and I don't know why. Well. I do know why. But apparently Janet and Sam are both clueless. 

I glance at his plate. "You need to eat a little more." 

"How much more?" Daniel says, resignedly. He'd survive on cookies and coffee if I let him. 

"Finish your beans." 

Daniel makes a face. 

"Four more bites." 

He sighs and picks up his fork again, spears a broccoli. "What if I eat the whole spear?" 

"That's good." I agree. Eating lunch with Daniel can now involve exchanges worthy of a UN negotiator at the Korean Conflict . 

"Colonel. Majors." A new voice assaults us. It's Davis. Daniel brightens. Davis sits down at the end of our table, briefcase in his lap. "Daniel." He reaches in, hands Daniel a present. 

It's rubber viruses this time. Science and grossness in one package. Daniel reads the label, turns it over and reads the back. 

Davis grins at me. Reaches into his bag again. "General Creighton upstairs heard about the honor that's been awarded the late Dr. Jackson and is throwing a ball for General Williams." He pulls out a thick, square envelope that looks suspiciously like something evil. Davis glances at the top of it, tosses it to me. 

Involuntarily, I catch it. "Have I told you how much I hate you, Major Davis?" 

"More than one occasion, Sir." Davis replies. Daniel glances up from his virus replica. Chortles. 

I slide the damn thing carefully open. Glance inside. Wince. "Formal. Evening." I mutter to no one in particular. 

Sam and Janet snort indelicately, I give them both the evil eye. 

"But sir. You look good in Mess Dress. You'll have to stop by and let us take photos before you attend." Sam tells me, grinning maliciously. 

Davis smiles evilly at them both and slides two invitations down the table. One to Major Carter and one to Major Frasier. The linen paper squares sit there on the table top while the two Majors stare at them in dismay. 

"You look so good in Mess Dress, Major. All the ruffles and the long skirt." I tell her. 

Sam narrows her eyes, purses her lips, looks from Davis to me with all the lethality of a King Cobra in a pissy mood. Janet pokes her fork at her invitation as though it might strike back. 

Daniel chortles again and rips the packaging off his virus. It's in a big plastic petri dish. He turns the thing upside down to watch the rubber virus inside peel away and fall.   
He sighs from his toes. "I guess I'll have to go Cherie's house that night, since you'll all be busy. Yeah. It's tough being so little and all. We'll watch TV and Cherie's mom will make popcorn. We'll hang out in our jammies and eat ice cream. . ." The virus makes a satisfying plop falling onto the lid of the dish. Daniel turns it back over. Grins at us all, turns to grin at Davis. 

Who has another Envelope, this time addressed to "Master Daniel Jackson, Jr." 

Daniel's smile evaporates. "But I'm LITTTLE!" He whines. "You can't make little kids go to these things! It's un-American." 

"Deal with it, Comrade." Davis replies. "General Williams insisted that you be invited since the only reason he's here is to present you with the award." 

Daniel frowns at no one in particular. 

Davis looks down the table at me. "Daniel is still A5 on the VIP lists." He says. 

I brighten. "I'm only a lowly Colonel." Which makes me an A6. Wayyyyyyy further down the roster than Daniel. Let someone else worry with making Daniel behave late at night when he's hyper and full of sugar. 

Davis smiles sweetly back. "We've already arranged it for you to sit with him. And I'm sure you'll make sure that Daniel wears appropriate attire." 

Daniel sighs from his toes again. "What's that? A suit?" 

"A tuxedo." 

At this, Janet can't help snorting. Sam grins broadly. 

Daniel scowls. "I'll look like an organ grinder's monkey." He protests. "I'll look like an evil ventriloquist's dummy. I'll. . ." 

"You'll look fine." I say, taking a long drink of coffee to fortify myself. 

"You have to wear ribbons on Dress Mess." Daniel tells me as he's getting into his booster seat that evening. 

"Yep." I agree neutrally. 

"ALL your ribbons?" Daniel asks, pulling his seat belt to. 

"Well. I don't have to wear things I got in basic, but pretty much." I start the Wrangler. 

"Will Kowalski's kids go to the Academy?" Daniel asks out of left field, just as we pass the guard station and enter traffic. 

"Huh?" 

I glance in the rearview. Daniel's got the stuffed Cuthulu he got from Sam for Christmas and is fiddling with it. "I heard that if you got a Medal of Honor your kids get automatic ins to the Service Academies." 

"Yeah. That's true. I don't know. If they want to go, I guess they will." I'm still wondering where this is coming from. 

"When I got the Presidential Medal of Freedom, Hammond told me they would've given me the Medal of Honor if I'd been military." 

Ah-hah. "Do you want to go to the Academy?" 

Daniel thinks about this. Wrinkles his nose. "I'd like to go to War College maybe. But the academy? No." 

"Cassie's at the academy." 

"Uh-huh." Daniel replies. "Do I have to wear my medals?" 

"For the awards ceremony, yeah. But for that dinner thing? No." 

Daniel sighs. He's already so not looking forward to getting a suit, but that's not optional. The Chief of Staff for the Air Force shows up to give you the Congressional Gold Medal, you wear a suit. 

"I heard the medal will have a stargate on it." Daniel says, putting his toy Cthulhu on his chest, under his chin. I have to watch traffic now, so I get to miss whatever else he does with the thing. 

Daniel's been hinting about what the medal will look like ever since we found out that he was getting the damn thing. Davis sent Hammond a copy of the proposed commission, so I know, but it's a surprise for Daniel. 

"Well, I suspect that's a 'duh'." I reply, hitting the brakes as a Suburban pulls out in front of us, running a light. 

"What else?" 

"You'll just have to wait and see." 

Daniel sniffs. "It better have something Egyptian on it." 

Actually, it has the stargate, the addresses for Earth and Abydos, and the words "For his heroic defense of Earth and all Tauri Worlds" in English and Abydonian. I decide to fall back on distraction. "You want sushi for supper?" 

"Depends on where you want to go. Out or in?" 

"I was thinking of that new place, Mikey? Where they have Odon noodles?" 

"Mikado? I thought that was lunch. Only you would choose a spot based on Odon noodles." 

"I survived 6 months of Lt. poverty on those. And it's the buffet that's lunch. They're open for dinner." 

"I like their sushi. I guess so." 

I pull into the turning lane, wait for the light. 

"I was thinking we could get you fitted for the suit and the tuxedo at the same time. Maybe this weekend." 

I hear the sounds of disgust, which I expected as the light goes green and I start across the intersection. 

And then. 

We're in what feels like an explosion. The passenger side of the Wrangler screams as it twists and implodes and the safety glass spider webs into translucence. We're carried across the intersection and into an oncoming Civic. 

The Civic's driver and I share gut-throttling panic for about 2 seconds. The Civic driver turns her steering wheel as hard to the left as she can, which is good, 'cause I'm pretty much at the mercy of the Expedition at this point. The driver's side corner of the Wrangler smashes into the Civic, spinning the Wrangler around, crumpling the front of the Wrangler, exploding the airbag into my face as the windshield shatters. 

I'm sucker punched from the airbag, and reel back in my seat as we keep skidding across the intersection. I hear brakes squealing and listen to another crash somewhere, but it isn't us, and then the Wrangler stops moving. 

I can't breathe and my heart is racing. I fight the airbag to try and look behind me for Daniel, but I can't. For a second I'm in a panic, I'm terrified, I'm in the driveway on a sunny afternoon, hearing a gunshot from upstairs ending my universe. 

"Jack! Are you okay? Jack?" Daniel's voice is hysterical, but it's loud and it's there and I feel water crowd my eyes as I slump in my seat. 

"I'm okay. How are you?" I finally manage to twist a little. The rearview mirror is hanging sideways and cracked but I can see the backseat. Daniel is almost sideways in his booster seat, his cthulthu still in his arms. There's blood on his face, probably cuts from flying glass. But he's okay. I think he's okay. Tears begin streaking down his face. 

"I'm okay. I'm fine." He repeats anxiously. 

I finally manage to turn enough to see my critter. 

Daniel inhales, terrified. "Jack, you've got blood on your face. There's blood. You've got a bloody nose." 

"I know. It's from the airbag." I put a hand to my nose, suddenly feeling the blood dribbling down my face in a thin flow. "I'll be a raccoon tomorrow. There's blood on your face too." 

"It doesn't hurt." 

"It's probably from the glass." Even safety glass will cut you if it's ground into your face at 50 miles an hour. 

"Oh." Daniel sniffs. "It wasn't too bad until I got scared you were hurt." 

Well, ditto. "Oh? It wasn't?" I wipe at my nose with my sleeve. 

"It wasn't nearly as scary as my first gate trip." 

I grin at that. "Do you hurt anywhere?" 

"Huh-uh." He shakes his head. "I'd like to not be sideways, but you know." He shrugs. Snuffles from his tears. "Did the locator go off?" The sensor attached to the Wrangler has fascinated him since Hammond ordered it put in last fall. 

"Probably." It should have. Mountain Security will be scrambling at full alert. I reach for my cell phone, realize it's buried in the twisted metal and upholstery where the passenger seat used to be. 

People are yelling now and a hand grabs at the door frame, pulls it open with a great screech of twisted metal. It's one of the guys who works the ID post for the elevator down to the SGC. "Holy Cow! Colonel O'Neill? Daniel? You okay? Motherfuckin'sonofabitch! You both okay?" 

"We're fine, Sergeant." I say, pushing down the airbag, trying to find my seat belt. 

"Jack. I can't get out. The seat belt latch won't undo." Daniel sounds a little worried now. 

I fight my way out of the Wrangler, pinching my nose closed when I get time. Another couple of airmen and a civilian show up out of nowhere and we fight the twisted-up driver's seat for access to Daniel. I hear crying and screaming but don't for a second lose my focus on Daniel. 

Daniel's quiet for a minute in his sideways seat, wiping blood and tears from his face with his Cthulhu. Finally he sniffs and looks at me. "Jack." 

"Hmm? Something hurt?" 

"No." He shakes his head. "All things considered, Jack. I think I'd rather be in a wreck than go to General Cavanaugh's formal ball." 

I'm still laughing at that one when EMT's and Air Force Hummers start swarming the scene. People in BDU's scrambling to secure the scene of a suburban wreck site. It'd be funny if it weren't so desperate. I finally look up for a second to see a woman holding a screaming five year old beside the mangled Expedition that's still attached to the Wrangler, the Civic Driver is still in her car, and just down from us, there's a three car pile up. People are standing in front of the Wendy's on the corner watching us. 

Then I hear Daniel's cheer as two young airmen finally get the seat out of the way and feel my own relief as my nose stops bleeding. 

"Don't take him out of the car seat." An EMT in Air Force BDU's, who looks about two years older than Daniel, screams, running over to us. 

Everyone freezes in place. "He could have spinal injuries!" She announces. 

"I'm fine!" Daniel yells. "I want OUT! I want JACK!" 

"Let me in to examine him." The EMT says, flitting through us, hitting shins with her kit. 

"I want Jack!" Daniel screams as I slip back to give her room. "Where's Jack! JACK!" 

"Daniel. It's okay. They just want to make sure you're okay." I poke my head in, earning a dirty look from the EMT. 

"I'm FINE!" He insists, holding his arms out to me. "Get me OUT of THIS!" 

"Let the EMT look at you and then I will." 

"I WANT OUT!" He howls as I give the EMT access. "THIS ISN'T FAIR! LET ME OUT!" 

The EMT gives me a look and wedges herself into the Wrangler. "Do you hurt anywhere? Does anything feel funny." She wipes the blood from his face. 

"I'm okay. I'm FINE! I want out! I want Jack!" Daniel bears her ministrations for about twenty seconds, then starts flailing at her with his stuffed Cthulhu. "I'm FINE. I WANT JACK!" 

"Hey! Calm down!" The girl protests, putting up a hand. "I just want. . ." 

"JAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!" Daniel uses up every bit of his lung capacity in this scream, now slinging the Cthulhu as hard as he can. 

The EMT winces and puts her fingers in her ears, backing away from the reach of Daniel's beanbag weapon. She glares at me like this is entirely my fault. "He's fine." She says, scuttling back. 

Daniel is crying again, and only stops slinging his Elder God around by its tentacles when I slip in. "Stop that!" I order, grabbing the damn thing and his hands at the same time. 

He gulps, sniffs. Sobs. 

"Hey. Hey. It's okay." I try to get to the seat belt latch, but it's hidden under the seat and the crumple of Wrangler. Someone hands me a utility knife and I make short work of the webbing. Daniel tumbles into my arms as I pull the seat belt off him. 

I hold him tightly, closely, feel the warm little body, all arms and legs and heaving sobs. I would give up anything for Daniel. I would kill or be killed for the small boy in my arms. There are no questions to this kind of love. At this moment, all I can do is let the emotion of it rip over me and hold my kid and thank gods I don't believe in that he is here and he is whole. 

I press him against me, smell the shampoo in his hair and the blood from his face and fear and winter sweat. He's tangling himself around me, trying to stop his sobs as he buries his face in my shoulder. 

I kiss the crown of his head and look up, finally able to focus on something besides Daniel trapped in his car seat. EMT's in BDU's swarming, along with scarier people in flak vests, carrying M-90's and examining ID's. The woman who hit us is about 3 deep in them and I can hear a kid about Daniel's age from their midst. 

"Sir. Why don't you and Daniel come over here?" A hand on my sleeve. It's a young airman with an MP tag on his sleeve. 

The fire department and some Airmen are prying the woman from her Civic. A few feet away the front of a Dodge Dakota is firmly attached to the back of a New Beetle, which has in turn been rear-ended by a little Saturn. People are screaming and crying and the woman from the Beetle is sitting against her car, wearing a neck collar. 

I follow the fresh-faced kid over to a sidewalk where we are met by a group of recon guys. Daniel is still crying, trembling against me. I stroke his hair. "We're okay. It's okay. Shhh." I tell him. "We're both okay." 

"I know. I know. " Daniel sobs into my shoulder. 

It's about an hour and a half later before everything has calmed down, the injured taken off to a hospital and the driver of the Expedition still trying to convince Air Force Intelligence and Military Police that she is NOT a terrorist, damn it. Her husband works for Focus on the Family, they vote REPUBLICAN for chrissakes! I get the feeling that our people don't think she's a threat, but they'll still haul her and the kid off to a holding cell until all the background checks come back clean. 

The rest of us have given our statements, and the cars are being towed away. Janet's come by, rubbed down both our faces and applied liquid skin to cuts that now throb like fuck and promised that we're both going to the infirmary tomorrow just to be sure. 

The Wrangler is trashed. Totaled. A mangled wreck. They had to get a flat bed in for it. I'm currently fighting the deep desire to go and send the Safety First organization half my life savings. When they came with to the daycare on parent's night with the whole spiel about booster seats for grade-schoolers, I thought it was a nice idea, and more to the point, it wrestled the little shit into a set place in the car. 

If Daniel hadn't had been in that booster seat. 

If Daniel had been in the front seat with me in just his seat belt. 

Daniel still hasn't let go of the Cthulhu yet, but he's no longer clinging to me like I supply his air. He's over with Davis and Carter, watching the tow trucks, tromping around in his Doc Martens, unabashedly in everyone's way while being an adorable little shit, something he's amazingly good at. 

"How is he?" It's Hammond. I start, a little surprised. 

"Daniel? He's probably better than I am right now." An Airman comes around with hot coffee from the Wendy's on the corner. We each take a cup. 

"Mountain security is opening up the area again." Hammond tells me. 

"How big of a perimeter did they close down?" 

Hammond glances at Daniel, decides he's too far away to hear us. "4 blocks in radius from the accident." He replies. 

"Are there going to be any security repercussions?" 

Hammond sips his coffee. "I doubt it. The Mountain's proven that we have a fast response to any perceived threats. There were airmen on the ground and on the scene at impact, ready to assist. I'm thankful we're in Colorado Springs." 

That's not what I was thinking about when I asked, but if Hammond wants to look on this as a good test of Mountain Crisis Response, more power to him. I watch Daniel laughing at something Davis has said as Sam teasingly ruffles his hair. In most cities, Daniel would be cloistered away by our fear. But Colorado Springs is a city of Military Bases. "Yeah." I agree. 

We wind up at Mikado, bloody clothes and all, with about 12 members of the SGC and NORAD?all the guys who were at the intersection and stopped to help us-- and Sam and Teal'c, Hammond, Davis, and Frasier. The Mikado takes one look and offers us the back room for our spontaneous private party. They bring us big platters of food, big pitchers of sake and strong green tea. We eat like hungry Marines and revel that we're all here, together, sharing a meal. 

Daniel didn't learn to speak Asian languages when he was growing up the first time, and he's been trying recently to remedy this tragic situation, so he's giddily chatting up the waitress, telling her to correct him anytime he sounds like a Yank. She's being horrifically indulgent of the schist but that could be due the fact that she's correctly discerned my intentions of leaving a horkingly huge tip. 

Hammond, Frasier, and I are at one end of the table. Carter, Davis, and a couple of other people are talking about data mining interfaces, whatever that is. Teal'c and the rest are discussing the Red Wings. Something I could really go for, normally. Just not tonight. 

Frasier downs another cup of Sake in one gulp as roses begin to bloom in her cheeks. We've been regaling one another with stories about the cars we had in college. Hammond has the best story, we agree. His first car was an old International truck front with a Ford rear, welded together so that the seat was always threatening to fall out of the cab. 

"What insurance did the Excursion driver have?" Hammond asks, picking up his bowl to eat more Odon noodles. 

"Traveler's. She said her husband's with Focus on the Family." 

"And apparently incensed that we could even think she's a security threat." Frasier adds, mouth twisting into a wry grin. "After all, when she supported tighter security measures, she never thought she would get caught in it." 

I have to grin at that one. Civvies. My eyes travel to the shit who is merrily teasing Sam about something to do with his stuffed animal. 

"What are you going to get?" 

"I don't know. I need something that could conceivably go off road in a pinch." 

"Doing manly man types of things?" Frasier asks. 

"No. But being able to go off-road is like needing contraception. You don't need it until you need it badly. And with the little shit. . ." I trail, put down my sake and trade it for a cup of tea. 

"An SUV?" Hammond queries. 

"I was thinking I might get Daniel to go for a Liberty." I tell him. 

"They're nice." Frasier concedes. "Family car." 

"But it goes off-road if you get the right package." I sip my tea. At the other end of the table, I hear Airman Martinson telling everyone about how Daniel beat up on the poor EMT with his elder god. Daniel's still got the bloody beanbag with him and is laughing as Martinson describes how Daniel wielded his weapon of choice. 

It's late when we stumble in, driven home in Hammond's staff car. Teal'c's carrying Daniel, something he enjoys a great deal. I know I enjoy doing it, even if the wretch does weigh about double what our backpacks do, despite all scales to the contrary. 

Daniel slits his eyes to let us know he's awake. Really he is. He hasn't crashed at all. 

I let Teal'c haul the munchkin upstairs. Teal'c drops down into the armchair in my room once I've cleared the clothes off it. I go get the munchkin's pj's. When I come back, Teal'c is the picture of parental doting. Daniel is sprawled against him, finger in his mouth, filthy Cthulhu under one arm, dead to the world. Teal'c's eyes are closed and his mouth is curled in what could almost be a smile, one arm curved around over Daniel's back. 

I listen a moment. Sure Jaffa don't sleep. Uh-huh. Teal'c must snore when he Kel-no-reem's. 

I hear noises. Voice noises. Plate noises. Door noises. Cat noises. 

Something small and wet tickles my face. Small paws walk across my shoulder. A dead weight settles on my chest and begins purring. It's hard to breathe. 

Reluctantly, I force my eyes open. I can feel the swelling. Uh-huh. Raccoon time. I hate air bags. 

Precious's one good eye observes me intently as I struggle into awareness. "You got a death wish?" I ask him. 

He is distinctly unimpressed. 

I begin to move and realize that Janet's prediction that I'd feel the accident today has come true. Even my hair aches. 

I frown at the cat, who continues to observe me via his big amber eye. We took Presh to the Mountain Vet, who does a double practice with SGC critters from the gate (when necessary) and the guard dogs up top. He says someone competent worked on Presh when he lost the eye. He also thinks Presh isn't all domesticus felis. Like that's a surprise. 

I fumble with one hand for the little bottle of pills Janet gave me yesterday for this morning. My fingers do a walk-lurch-search thing across the bedside table to save me from actually having to turn my neck and look. 

I finally force my hand up and tump the damn beast off my chest. He tumbles onto the bed with a mutter of disgust. 

"Jack! You're up!" The bed bounces enthusiastically. I groan. "Sore, huh?" Daniel scoots up to the head of the bed. He grins at me, entirely too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my liking at this moment. 

I glare at him. My fingers finally find the pill bottle, and I grab it. "Stop bouncing if you want to make it to ten." I growl. 

Daniel laughs. 

I open the pill bottle and pop out a small capsule, dry swallow it. "Where's Teal'c?" 

"I have been interceding on your behalf with Cheyenne Mountain's Motor Pool." A voice announces. 

I finally force myself to sit up, grunting and moaning with the agony of movement. Teal'c enters the room, bearing two steaming coffee mugs. He hands one to me, keeps the other for himself, eyes the cat on my bed with suspicion. "We're getting a loaner?" I ask, rubbing my neck with one hand while I drink my coffee. 

"They're going to give us a car." Daniel bubbles. 

I give my kid a wary look, then return my gaze to Teal'c. 

"General Hammond has authorized a 'modified Jeep Liberty' for your disposal to transport Dr. Jackson." 

Ah-hah. That makes sense, actually. 

"I have informed Major Welsh of certain accoutrements I believe should be necessary for the transportation of DanielJackson." 

Okayyyyy, that could mean either armor plating or a killer entertainment system. I wait for the description. 

"He intimidated them into putting in a DVD player with a drop down 20 inch flat screen TV and two stereos." Daniel tells me, smugly. "Major Welsh is way scared of Teal'c." He confides with a grin. 

Teal'c grins back. They high-five over me. "You will have the Limited Edition package with in-seat heating and full leather seating." 

I smile weakly at them both and lurch up with a groan. Daniel stays on the bed, curling up around Precious, but Teal'c follows me into the bathroom. 

Jaffa have no sense of privacy about these things. 

"Daniel." I call, grabbing a bath sheet and folding it into thirds. I grab up Daniel's Cthulhu from where it sits in a sink full of what is now snot and blood infested water, give it a gentle squeeze. 

He trots in, peers at my operations. "Oh. I'd wondered where that was." He says as I put the soggy heavy thing on the towel and wrap it up. 

"Here. Dump it in the dryer." 

"Microwave will be faster." He interrupts. 

I give the towel wrapped creature a hard look. "I don't know that there might be something in that would melt in the microwave." 

Daniel glances at his Cthulhu. "I think it will be okay." 

"Dryer." I order. 

Daniel gives me a frown. 

"If you put that in the microwave instead of the dryer," I warn, trying to think fast. "No. . ." God, what? Okay. Natural consequences. Well, if it doesn't explode no consequences. If it does explode. . . don't go there. Okay. So no natural consequences. "It's a 3 squared." 

Daniel makes a face. 3 squared is a relatively new thing. Not big enough for grounding, bigger than 10 or 15 minutes time out. Basically it's an hour of boredom. 

"Understood?" 

He makes another face. Sighs. 

"One." I say, letting the water out of the sink. 

"Okay. Okay." Daniel mutters finally. "Dryer. I get it." He wanders out of the bathroom, toweled package in both hands. 

Teal'c watches the little shit leave, says nothing about my parenting skills. "It will also be equipped with armor plating and bullet proof windows." Teal'c continues. "They will install a land-sat phone and military GPS." 

Not bad. I start brushing my teeth. Teal'c isn't done though. "The combustion engine will be modified for more `horsepower' and lockable storage compartments are to be added in various hidden places in the vehicle. In addition, the vehicle is to have approximately 2 more inches ground clearance than is stated in the specifications." 

I look at Teal'c, toothbrush in mouth. He has the look Presh gets after he's either destroyed something of mine or let off a particularly noxious fart. 

"Thanks." I say around the brush and toothpaste. 

"A driver will be here in 45 minutes." Daniel says putting the cordless phone back on the charger as I get the muffins out of the microwave. 

"Have a seat." I tell him. 

Daniel hops up beside Teal'c at the breakfast bar, lets me put half of a muffin down on his plate while he guzzles his morning coffee. 

"I've got another loose tooth." Daniel tells me. 

I close my eyes, take a deep breath. "Another one?" 

Daniel grins cheekily and waggles a bottom tooth right in front. He's already missing one on top. I endured blood and spit on his clothes for about two weeks; he fiddled with it constantly which the dentist assured me was how God made little kids?the fiddling helps remove the tooth before the next one comes in. 

"Are you sure that it is not loosened from the impact yesterday?" Teal'c asks. 

Daniel frowns at this, tries to look down his nose at his tooth. "I don't think so. It doesn't hurt." 

"We'll make sure Janet knows." I say. "Even if it is, I don't think it will hurt anything." 

"What do I get for this one?" Daniel asks. 

I give him a look. He managed to wrangle the promise of a trip to Denver to visit the art museum out of his last tooth. Daniel smiles at me. 

"A trip to the Ethiopian Restaurant in Denver when we go to the museum." I tell him, forestalling the inevitable argument. We have to eat somewhere and I like Ethiopian. Not that Daniel needs to know that. 

Daniel pauses to think about this. "And $50 at the gift shop?" 

I consider this. We won't go to the mall that week, so he won't be using his Discovery store money. "All right." I agree. 

Daniel gives me a look to say that he thinks he should've asked for more. I return the look with my eat-shit-and-die look. Daniel grins. 

"I still do not understand why the natural process of losing one's milk teeth should be cause for presents." Teal'c says, tearing apart his muffin, slathering it in butter. 

Daniel shrugs. "I think it's a transition thing. A ritual designed to recognize a marker in the stages of childhood." 

"Leaving one's milk tooth under a pillow so that a mythical being will take it and leave the former owner money?" Teal'c counters. 

Daniel chews on a bite of his own half-muffin. "Yeah. You give away the baby part and get something from the adult world." 

Teal'c raises an eyebrow, but refrains from comment while we eat. 

Janet wants to take me first, since I'm old and decrepit, but I manage to foist Daniel off on her first as Hammond has already requested my presence in his office. 

"Your Jeep will be ready by this weekend." Hammond hands me some keys. "For the time being, the motor pool has issued you a Bronco." 

"Sweet." I pocket the keys. 

"Your face looks. . ." he starts, then winces. 

"Like I got punched in the face with an airbag." I sigh. "My neck and back are the aching parts. I'll be fine." I dismiss. 

"We're thinking about keeping Daniel's medal ceremony in-family and invite various dignitaries." Hammond sits at his desk, motions me to take a seat. 

"Off world dignitaries?" I query. 

"With the formal ball, there's no need to invite outsiders, even outsiders with clearance." 

I can't help my smile at that one. 

"Sirs. Sorry, I'm late." Davis rushes in, salutes us both, takes a seat beside me. 

"We were just discussing the change in ceremony plans. I like it. More to the point, Daniel will be thrilled." 

Davis smiles at this. "It's appropriate, I think, and gives a good impression to off-worlders." He agrees. 

"How are the. . .uninvited going to take it?" Hammond asks. 

"Well, that will depend on the response we get. If necessary, before we make the final decision, we'll query the senior brass who might want to attend both. If there are enough without SGC clearance, we'll just have two medal ceremonies." 

"So Daniel will be issued the award three times?" 

"Well. We'll just let General Thorton say a few nice things about the deceased at the ball." 

"You do realize that getting him to behave for two ceremonies will be. . .well. Difficult." Hammond interjects before I can offer my own, more pointed commentary. 

Davis smiles tightly. "I'm aware of that. We can do abbreviated ceremonies, neither lasting over 20 minutes." 

"We're inviting Kasuf?" I ask, thinking fast. 

"On the top of the list. Along with Thor and Lya and various other dignitaries." 

"If you have the more public one, invite his friends from the kiddie set. At least his two best friends." I tell them, thinking of Cherie and Andrew. "He'll behave if they show up. And he'll behave if Kasuf's there for the private one." 

Davis and Hammond shoot me grateful looks at my successful outwitting of the monster. 

"We could invite the Furlings as well." I muse. 

"If you think any of them would show up." Davis replies straight-faced. 

"I think if they came in the same form they took last time, Daniel would try to stomp them like bugs." 

Janet motions me to a bed when I wander into her infirmary. "Daniel's still down in X-ray." She tells me bluntly as I begin to sit down. 

I stand up. "What? I thought he wasn't hurt? What's wrong?" 

"Sit back down, Colonel." She pushes my middle. Uhmph. That hurts. "There's some bruising around his shoulder and, of course, the loose tooth. I don't think he's hurt, in fact normally I wouldn't even have an X-ray done. But this is Danger Daniel we're talking about." 

"You sure?" 

"I'm positive." She gives my face a look and winces. "You put ice on that last night?" 

"Used two cold packs. Thanks for the muscle relaxants." 

"No problem. Take your shirt and jacket off." I obey with a wince. "I'm sending you in for a CAT scan." She informs me. "But I think it's just old muscles responding to being tossed around." 

I can't help snorting. 

"What's up with the stuffed animal?" 

"His Cthulhu?" I ask as she checks my eyes. 

She nods, moving on to my ears. 

"I don't know. He bring it in here?" 

"Yep. And nearly burst into tears when we started to wheel him down to X-ray without it." 

"That doesn't sound like. . ." I pause. I can and will talk to St. Clair, but I can already guess what it means. "He had it in the accident." 

Frasier checks my mouth and throat with a questioning expression on her face, then she's got her stethoscope out. 

"And?" She questions, pausing. 

"It's probably. . ." I pause. "We were safe in the accident. Lucky charm." 

"Talisman." Frasier puts the earpieces in, warms the bell between her hands. 

"Yeah, that." I agree. "I wouldn't make a deal out of it." 

Frasier gives me the look people give me when they they're torn between how cute Daniel is and how they disapprove of indulging kids. 

I smile blandly. I'm quite proud of how well I've spoiled Daniel. 

**The End**

  


* * *

  


>   
>  INSERT AUTHOR'S NOTE  
> 

* * *

>   
>  © July 2004 We hold these truths to be self-evident, that Daniel, Jack and Co.   
>  are intellectual property of Gekko Film Corp. Presh, on the other hand, is his   
>  own cat and the rest belong to Amp!  
> 

* * *

  



End file.
